Monochrome Silence
by Bishie Huntress
Summary: Sasuke and Naruto meet on a dark, moonlit night.


Moonlight painted a picture of silver and black. Skeletal remains of winter trees filled the frosty air. Ice crystals floated down through the night light, coating dark, empty branches. Snow glittered on the ground, an endless, unbroken blanket of white. No sound marred the perfect stillness of this chill winter moment.

Poised dangerously high on a treetop, a fey creature of the night stood watching, a silent sentinel. Dark, dark hair hung over a face as pale as the moon itself, while eyes stared out of a blackened soul. One pale arm was outstretched, hand gripping the tree in a gentle grasp that belied its true strength. A long, narrow sword blade glinted in the starlight, held low and unassuming in the other hand. His posture was casual and unworried.

In contrast, a creature of the sun stood on a tree nearby, strangely bleached by the colorless light. His bright hair was held away from his face by a tightly tied headband bearing a metal plate over his forehead, a swirling symbol of a leaf etched into it. Below it, eyes of a silvery hue watched the other figure, wide open and honest. Three shadowy marks brushed back across each cheek like the whiskers of a cat. A hand, toughened by days, months, _years_ of training, held tightly within it a short, diamond-shaped blade. His body was tense, ready to spring, and his face wore a look of determination.

Both figures were motionless for the longest time, seemingly part of the frozen landscape. A winter wind blew softly, dancing teasing fingers and tiny pieces of glistening crystal through the hair of the two silent boys.

Then, faster than the eye could follow, both boys were gone. They became visible again in a whirl of snow, blades clashing together with a muted ring. Leaping back and away from each other, they paused for a second before disappearing and reappearing in a shower of ice on a tree branch a short distance away.

The silent dance continued, steps too fast to be visible to any normal mortal. Breath hung in clouds moments after they'd moved, and snow flew and glittered around them.

Blood was drawn and it sprayed, black and hissing, across the snow. Again, the two boys leapt away. The one with the short blade made some signs with his hands, signs that were all too familiar to the other. A whiskered double sprang into existence and, as the original held out his wounded arm, moved his hands in a dizzying pattern over the bloodstained palm. With a rush of wind, spinning moonlight coalesced between the three hands, blood mixing in as strange whirling shadows.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed boy opposite had sheathed his weapon, created his own hands signs, and idly held a hand out. A ball of lightning grew in the curve of his fingers, tickling his palm. Long tendrils of crackling, snapping electricity splayed about in every direction, defying gravity. A hissing, chirping sound carried out over the snow as shadow and light played across his pale skin, reflecting like sparks from the pools of inky darkness his eyes made in his expressionless face.

All the while, the boys shared an unbroken gaze, one with eyes blazing as emotions ran rampant over his face, jaw set firm. The other held so little emotion in face, and in bearing, that he could have been thought dead if he wasn't standing upright, small puffs of warm air floating before him.

Then they were running, charging, _flying_ over the ground, snow dusting up in great clouds behind them. When whirling wind met crackling light, for one moment, deafening silence reigned. The boys pushed closer, and suddenly, a thunderous explosion tore apart the night. Light, whiter and more brilliant than a high summer sun, flashed through the darkness, throwing shadows of black trees in sharp relief against the blinding snow.

When the light died away, a charred, steaming hole laid dark against the earth. Not a soul was in sight. Slowly, gently, snow began to fall down, cooling the wounded earth in its cleansing embrace.

And though the world was silent once again, its tranquility could never truly be pieced back together.

_**End**_

* * *

><p><strong>an:<strong> And so? Did you like it? I'm considering continuing this a little, but only if I really get some positive feedback. I want to know what you think of it, and I want to know if you _want_ to read more. Please lend me your thoughts!


End file.
